


Dancing through time (like a kick to the head)

by FlowerCrash



Category: Naruto
Genre: (but I could really use a beta), AU, And all these children are disasters, And you're getting adopted!, BAMF Uzumaki Kushina, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hiruzen's got some shit to answer for, Hokage Uzumaki Kushina, I don't know the pairings., I'll figure it out., It sounds like some kind of fruit., M/M, Mom!Kushina, There's gonna be some angst., Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travelling Lesbians, You're all getting adopted!, You're getting adopted!, but in the future, canon? what's that?, no beta we die like men, we don't do that here - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlowerCrash/pseuds/FlowerCrash
Summary: Uzumaki Kushina had it made. She had a beautiful girlfriend, a sort-of boyfriend, the adoration of her villagers and areally sweethat. Itreallyshould've been alright that she couldn't figure out one teensy, tiny, indescribably powerful little jutsu.But pride has been the downfall of many strong shinobi.Sarutobi Hiruzen won't know what hit him.
Relationships: Background Namikaze Minato/Uchiha Fugaku, Background Namikaze Minato/Uchiha Fugaku/Uchiha Mikoto/Uzumaki Kushina, TBD - Relationship, background Uchiha Mikoto/Uzumaki Kushina
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68





	1. Prologue

_Perhaps_ , she mused, _if she just glared at the slip of paper a_ little _harder, it might obligingly set itself aflame._  
  
But alas, despite the darkening of her glare, the offending piece of paper did not spontaneously combust beneath the weight of her frustration.  
  
Suddenly, she was so very jealous of Mikoto.  
  
She just didn’t understand why it wouldn’t work. Fuinjutsu was supposed to be _her thing._ She was from Uzushiogakure, for crying out loud! She was Uzushio's last daughter, and the leaf village's Fourth Hokage _,_ dattebane!  
  
Yet the infuriating little slip of black-stained paper remained in front of her, and if she’d been running on any less sleep, she’d’ve accused the baleful thing of _laughing_ at her.  
  
Really, if this was a seal taught to one of her predecessors by her ancestors, that had been figured out by her own sort-of-student-partner-idiot… thing, then it should’ve been, by all rights, _easy._ But, for whatever reason, she just couldn’t seem to figure out which part it was that was refusing to interface with her chakra.  
  
Minato insisted that it was because she didn’t have the control for it, but that wasn’t how Uzushio seals _worked._ It wasn’t about control, it was about _intent_ and _expression_ and _beauty_ and-  
  
And…  
  
… And this _wasn’t_ an Uzushio seal, was it? Not really _._ She’d been tripped up by the five point base, the curved matrices, the distinct flair that Minato had picked up from her, but it _wasn’t an Uzushio seal._ It was one of those bastardized, half-Uzushio, half-Fire monstrosities that Tobirama had “pioneered” (mangled,) that Jiraiya had “standardized” (butchered even further,) and Minato had apparently been corrupted by (she was going to kill him.)  
  
But the revelation struck her like a bolt of lightning. It wouldn’t work like an Uzushio seal, because it wasn’t an Uzushio seal, so all she had to do was rewrite it _as an Uzushio seal._  
  
The mad cackling that left her mouth was something that stuffy old advisory bastards might call “uncouth” or possibly “unholy,” but she didn’t care _._ Not that now she knew what to do.  
  
The original hiraishin was quickly stuffed into a small corner of her desk, propped up to serve as a vague guide; the mixed sealing styles might’ve been barbaric, but there was no denying that Tobirama had learned directly under the Uzumaki in a way she hadn’t been able to, and there was a certain wisdom in that.  
  
A dozen blank sheets of paper were rapidly brushed over with chakra-fueled ink, and were just as rapidly discarded. Five point bases were layered, scrapped, set over one another, and scrapped again. She barely noticed when the sun began to sink below the horizon through the window of her study, pausing only to transition from sunlight to candlelight. When Mikoto swanned in with a pinched brow and a worried frown, bearing tea and onigiri and fussing about proper health and self-care, Kushina stopped only to press an adoring kiss to the fretting Uchiha’s lips and promise that she’d be to bed soon.  
  
She’d meant it, when she said it, but as seals were written and rewritten, as fire here turned into water and lightning became wind, she’d… Lost track of time.  
  
When she finally sat back, fingers and face stained and smudged with ink and almost entirely unable to feel her legs, she didn’t notice the sun rising to her left.  
  
She didn’t have eyes for anything but what was in front of her. A masterpiece, if she did say so herself; a true Uzumaki-tier work of art. No more blocky lines, no more irritating, trickle-down activation logic, just pure, unadulterated Uzushio _._ And it was _perfect._  
  
She’d done away with the fire and lightning connectors, because she’d known that they hadn’t started that way, had streamlined the clunky Fire nation script and logic receptors and replaced it with pure intent. It was flowing, infused with her life and her soul, a living thing in its own right, and it was going to work, damn it!  
  
Now, realistically, she knew that there were protocols for testing brand new seals. Find a partner, have them review her work, get a controlled environment going, that sort of thing. But she was a sealmaster. An Uzumaki seal master, at that! Surely, that had to count for something, right?  
  
 _Besides_ , a nasty little voice balked up in the back of her mind, and if she hadn’t just done a runner through the night, she might’ve identified it as Kurama’s influence rearing its petty, spiteful head. _Namikaze did it by himself._  
  
Kushina was many things, but contrary to belief, she wasn’t stupid _._ She was, however, _proud._ And why shouldn’t she be? She’d clawed her way through the ranks with skill, ferocity, and determination. Taken her lifelong dream and made it a reality. She was engaged to the most beautiful woman in the entire village, and had… Whatever that thing was with Minato and Fugaku.  
  
Eh. Labels were, as her trusted Jonin Commander might say, “troublesome.”  
  
But she had _reasons_ to be proud. Good reasons, even! And sure, it might’ve been petty, and childish, but that pride had flared up; flared up and told her that if Minato, if her sort-of _student_ could do it by himself, she damn well could too!  
  
The minor case of sleep deprivation probably wasn’t helping her thought process, but since when had she ever let a little thing like that slow her down? She’d won wars with less.  
  
And that was how she found herself with a rolled up primary seal and two smaller child seals stuffed haphazardly in a knapsack and her wrinkled haori tugged across her shoulders. She’d swept out of her study like a storm, pinning a furious-looking Mikoto with a quick kiss and a holler of “GonnagotestoutapotentiallydeadlysealnowyougetmystuffifIdieBYE!” in one breath before the appropriate response could be formed by the gawking Uchiha, and was out of the door and across the rooftops before the first enraged shout could reach her ears, followed by the kunai that she was preeeeeetty sure might’ve struck her in the spine if she hadn’t whirled out of the way with practiced ease.  
  
Mikoto was beautiful. And _terrifying._ _  
  
_She arrived at Training Ground thirteen not a moment later, vibrating with excitement and giddy with adrenaline. It was a good choice – nice, wide, flat, with very little chance of Pulling A Minato and ending up displacing part of a tree trunk with her torso on the first try. She took a deep breath. _Focus, Kushina, you can do this!  
_  
She laid out the anchor seal in the middle of the field, pinning the blank edges with kunai to keep it still. Of course, if this worked, she’d have to work on downsizing it, but that was a subject for another day. She crept to the edge of the clearing, fit the child seals against her palms, and took a deep breath.  
  
Moment of truth.  
  
She clapped her hands.  
  
And something went deeply, terribly wrong.

* * *

  
Kushina had experienced chakra exhaustion exactly once in all of her twenty-seven years. It had been during the third war, after three days of vicious, all-out brawling with Stone’s little stubborn asshole runt of a Jinchuuriki, and it had left her bedridden for just as long. She’d wanted to die the first time she’d woken up. She had _never_ been that tired, that sore.  
  
But that had happened over the course of three days. A steady, incessant pull at the seemingly overwhelming ocean that was her chakra reserves, an increasing weight to each step that she’d been able to put to the back of her mind until the fighting had drawn down to a pace that she didn’t _have to._  
  
This was nothing like that.  
  
This was a ruptured drum, a pressurized water tank being punctured, this was all of her unfathomable reserves surging up in a rush of _painswellburstagony_. She was going to explode. She was going to be crushed. Her ribs were too big and too tight, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t _see_. There was nothing but blackness and _tootightneedmoreroomnotenoughroomgonnaexplodecan’tbreath **help** _and she couldn’t think, couldn’t cry, couldn’t _scream_ no matter how much she wanted to.  
  
And then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped, and she found herself on her hands and knees, hurling the pathetic remains of last night’s onigiri onto the grass field. Her head was spinning, spinning, too fast and too hard and everything _hurt_ , like every bone in her body had been broken and then re-fastened but not healed. Her thoughts were fuzzy, and she was pretty sure that distantly, a tiny part of her brain was reminding her that yes, this was what chakra exhaustion, and yes¸ normal people did in fact have to worry about this.  
  
A much larger part of her brain was just trying to make the spinning stop, to ward off the darkness creeping at the edge of her vision, because no matter what was happening this was Not Good.  
  
Something closed on her shoulder. A hand, maybe, but she couldn’t even summon up the strength to retaliate, especially when everything started _spinning again._  
  
A faint view of the midday sun told her that _oh. Maybe she’d just been flipped onto her back._  
  
A much fainter view of a spiky head of gravity-defying gray prompted a sluggish, hoarse slur of “K’shzh?”  
  
And as blackness overcame her valiant, yet pitiful attempts to fight it off, the only thing she could think was ‘ _But I barred you from ANBU.’_  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So... This is my first attempt at a "real" fanfiction, really! I'm pretty nervous about this, but hey! Maybe people will be into it.
> 
> Please feel free to leave any feedback or constructive criticism, it's very much appreciated! 
> 
> Next chapter, hopefully: Enter Hiruzen! 
> 
> ... I suck at Author's notes!
> 
> Post-edit: These first couple chapters are probably going to be a little in flux as I find my voice, style, and how I want each character's personality to come through. Apologies in advance!


	2. Hiruzen

Sarutobi Hiruzen was not having a good day.

The day had begun with a visit to the hospital to take measure of his village’s newest, most tragic ward. It had become a daily ritual, this last week, and yet his heart wept no less with each passing day. Young Sasuke was showing no signs of improving from his near-catatonic state after the unfortunate incident that had tragically befallen his family naught but two weeks past.  
  
This had, of course, done little to stop Danzo from creeping into his office with slithering words and sharp phrases, speaking of blades unwielded and lessons unlearnt, before Hiruzen had summarily dismissed him with a darkened look that promised a thinning temper and swift indictment.  
  
It wouldn’t truly solve anything, of course. Nothing ever did, and by the time his soft heart had hardened to this fact, he had been mired too deeply in the disgusting black muck that the once mighty roots of Konoha had become. It wasn’t that he feared retribution for his actions - not in any true sense. Simply...  
  
...In some nights, the darkest ones, milling around his home with tea that had not been served by Biwako, lighting a pipe that young Tsunade was not around to chastise him for, that he almost found himself wishing for it. On those nights, he thought that perhaps Jiraiya might return home to censure him for his actions. On the worst, he even allowed himself to think of his most wayward student, the son that wasn’t, returned again like a ghost of vengeance to rip him forcefully into the Pure Lands.  
  
Such thoughts never lasted beyond the dawn, of course. He was Hokage first, and a man second, and though he sometimes allowed himself to dream, he knew that the village must come first. In that, he supposed, he and his shadow were not so different.  
  
It didn’t mean that the other man didn’t make his skin scrawl, nor that he’d been kind enough to leave without bestowing the beginnings of a pounding headache forming behind Hiruzen's temples. He’d only just managed to light his soothing blend of imported tobacco, a ward against the oncoming migraine, when **_it_** had happened.  
  
Hiruzen was not a sensor, not by any means, which made it all the more alarming when this morning’s relaxation was swiftly and brutally interrupted by a flare of chakra so vast and so potent that it shone like a beacon even to his dull senses, wet and wild and fierce as a summer storm.  
  
It lasted only a single breath, a single heartbeat, before it faded as quickly as it had come, but that was more than enough time for his honor guard to materialize from the shadows. In some ways, the sudden _lack_ of presence was just as troubling as its arrival.  
  
Not a muscle moved, not a finger twitched, each of the four ANBU rigidly still, tanto drawn in defense of their dictator. To his credit, Hiruzen’s only response was to dig his fingers into the leather of his chair, aged muscles coiling like agitated serpents.  
  
Heartbeats turned to minutes, and given the relative lack of destruction, screaming, or panicked civilians, it likely wasn’t an invasion. It wasn’t until a knock at the door, and a muffled “Hokage-sama,” from a very familiar voice, did he feel himself take a breath.  
  
A cautious glance was sent Cat’s way, and after a moment, the purple-haired ANBU simply nodded her assent. A sensor, though not infallible, was at the very least a generally reliable way to screen would-be imposters.  
  
Poor thing probably had the mother of all headaches after what’d just happened, though. He’d make note to grant her a day of leave, once her replacement came.  
  
Loosening his grip, and schooling his aging features into diplomatic steel, he steepled his fingers. “Enter, Hound.”  
  
The twin mahogany doors swung open, and through stepped the gray-haired, lanky scarecrow that had carved a legacy of blood through the ranks of Konoha’s ANBU, tackling the work with an almost single-minded intensity that had made Hiruzen question the wisdom of approving the boy’s application in the first place.  
  
He looked… Different. Shaken, almost, in a way that he hadn’t been since first joining the corps, and his one charcoal eye was flinty with barely suppressed fury. That the boy had opted to leave his mask clipped to his belt spoke volumes. Whatever had happened, this had been _personal._  
  
“Hokage-sama. At approximately 1300 hours, at training ground thirteen, I apprehended a…” He paused for a moment, and his jaw worked into a frown behind his mask. “… An infiltrator. As per standard protocol, the prisoner was delivered promptly to T&I. They…”  
  
And there was that pause again, like Hound was struggling to form words, something so utterly unlike the ANBU captain that Sarutobi felt his eyebrows climbing towards had once been a hairline.  
  
“They… _ascertained_ that the infiltrator would not survive for questioning without immediate medical treatment. They said they would secure her in the lower east ward, and had me send for you immediately.” Hiruzen could _hear_ the man’s teeth grinding.  
  
Ah. He hadn’t appreciated being made to play errand boy.  
  
“And what, Hound,” a farce, what with the boy’s mask clasped where it was, but there were none to hear save his fellow corps members. “Can you tell me about our infiltrator?”  
  
“… I think it’s best if you see for yourself, Hokage-sama.”  
  


* * *

  
Sarutobi had expected many different things as Hound lead him to the hospital. Perhaps a Kiri nin, mangled beyond belief by a lightning blade. A vengeful Iwa child, out to seek revenge on the closest known connection of the yellow flash still walking the streets. Perhaps even Orochimaru himself, though the latter was given only the briefest allowance before being dismissed with a snort.  
  
He certainly hadn’t been expecting this.  
  
He hadn’t expected _Uzumaki Kushina_ , breathing so shallowly that he almost thought she’d come back to haunt him with death yet again, hooked up to a myriad of beeping machinery, with her dead husband’s haori draped over a nearby chair and two inscrutable seals burned into her palms.  
  
Chakra exhaustion, they’d told him.  
  
A dead woman, seven years lost to him, sporting a veritable ocean of raging Uzumaki vitality, was currently in his hospital.  
  
Because of _chakra exhaustion._  
  
It hadn’t been a genjutsu, they’d affirmed. Not a ninjutsu either, since there was barely enough energy left in the redhead’s body for her to breathe, let alone maintain something as advanced as a physical transformation. It was possible that it could've been the seals in her hands, but they didn’t seem to be exuding any chakra, and what sort of infiltrator would leave such an obvious brand on their body?  
  
He pulled in a deep sigh, held it, and exhaled through his nostrils. To Bird, he nodded briefly, and spoke up with a voice that creaked with the bone-deep weariness he was currently experiencing. “Send a hawk to Jiraiya. Tell him he is needed at once, no excuses.”  
  
He turned to Horse, who had been stiffer than usual, and Sage above if Sarutobi didn’t empathize. But a leader must lead, and that is exactly what he intended to do.  
  
“Horse. Fetch Yamanaka Inoichi and Nara Shikkaku. Cat, find the hospital head and inform him that we will require a blood test of _utmost_ secrecy.” A deep sigh. “This is not to leave this room. Once your tasks are completed, consider yourselves gifted an extra day of leave. Dismissed.”  
  
With rigid nods, both of his guards disappeared into blurs of motion, leaving only himself, Badger, and the faint beeping of the machinery.  
  
“Hokage-sama,” Badger intoned. His voice was neutral as ever, but Sarutobi could read the faint tremors as easily as a book. Curiosity. Worry. “What do we do if…”  
  
 _If this is real_ , came the unfinished question.  
  
And not for the first time, and not for the last, he felt every single day of his sixty-four years, and he let out a slow, heavy exhale.  
  
“Then, perhaps…” He mused, tone that of the jovial old man even as regret and sorrow began to crystallize like a leaden weight in his belly. “Perhaps, Badger, we may yet learn the extent of our sins.”  
  
He blithely pretended not to notice the trained assassin give an audible gulp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarutobi: _no fear_  
>  Kushina: hello sarutobi who is a naruto and why does he have my last name  
> Sarutobi: ... _one fear_
> 
> As before, please feel free to leave any criticisms, comments, etc below!


End file.
